Locked in a tower closed to the sun
I waited for Prince Charming to come.
Ten years I wasted, alone all along,
My only company a bird and its song.
Before it occurred to me-I shouldn’t wait;
By now he’d have been here-it must be too late.
“I’ll escape on my own! Yes, this I can do!
I need no prince! I’ll be a hero too!”
I summoned the sentry, used my sweet charm;
‘fore long I had him alone and unarmed.
I knocked him unconscious (it wasn’t hard-
Men are dull-witted when they let down their guard!)
I donned his armor, sword and shield.
Identity, then, completely concealed
I fled down the stairs and was met by more guards.
“The prisoner’s escaped! On her way to the yard!”
Alarmed by my warning, they ran where I told.
“I’ll tell the wizard! He’ll want to know!”
Unchecked and unhindered, I ran to the gate.
Alas! There, I was met by that snake!
The wizard himself, in a terrible guise-
A winged dragon with claws, and red rage in his eyes.
Around him a storm crashed, matching his anger.
Under his control, it presented some danger.
“Princess, wait!” I heard through the wind’s blast.
A frown on my face, I turned, aghast.
The prince, it seemed, finally made an appearance.
I scowled at his timing, and direct interference.
“How could you do this? I had it under control!
I don’t believe this! You’re such a…troll!”
“Sorry Princess, but to me it seems
You’re not much of a fighter-leave the dragon to me.”
Smiling at my outburst, he drew his sword and ran.
I stared, shocked-he was a courageous man.
I watched the fiery battle with gritted teeth
And stayed, despite the storm and the heat.
Their weapons clashed again and again-
At first I thought the dragon would win.
But the storm finally calmed; the dragon was dead.
With one final blow, he hewed off its head.
The prince stumbled toward me-I could tell he was hurt.
I helped him recover-I owed him that work.
“Well,” he said, once he could speak,
“What do you think about coming with me?”
“My journey’s just started!” I said with regret.
“I just don’t think I can quit yet.”
“I understand, I won’t ruin your fun.”
And with that I strode off, into the sun
More by this Author
What is Love? We write about it, we sing about it. We fight wars for it. Yet no matter what religion, country or background we are from, we all have very similar opinions about what Love really is. In the short story...
This is a short story I wrote for my creative writing class. It was one of my first exercises, in which we had to take 3 sentences: Darkness came like a thief,' 'the streets felt strangely empty,'...
A Marxist and Feminist Analysis of the play "A Doll House" by Henrik Ibsen.